So, here is to the boys we loved. Here is to the tears we cried. And here is to the woman who survived them all—stronger, wiser, and finally ready for a love that doesn't require a list of warnings.
The boys you loved are not the same people they were. And neither are you. The boy who broke your heart at 17 is now a father of two. The summer fling is probably bald. The artist probably stopped writing poems and started selling insurance. De Los Chicos Que Me Enamore
When you finally kiss him, it feels like coming home. But here lies the danger: sometimes we confuse comfort with passion. We love the best friend because he is safe. But safety does not always spark a fire. We learn that just because a person is perfect on paper, it doesn’t mean they are perfect for our soul. This relationship teaches us the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. This boy was a foreigner—literally or metaphorically. He appeared during a vacation, a summer course, or a three-month exchange program. "De los chicos que me enamoré" lists him as the "what if." The relationship had an expiration date from day one. That knowledge made it intense. You crammed a lifetime of romance into sixty days. So, here is to the boys we loved
We often revisit our list when we are lonely or when our current relationship feels boring. We compare a real, flawed partner with a memory that has been edited a thousand times. The boys you loved are not the same people they were
That is not foolishness. That is the greatest power in the world.
When you look back at "De los chicos que me enamoré" , do not look with longing. Look with gratitude. Thank them for the pain (yes, the pain) because pain shapes your boundaries. Thank them for the laughter. Thank them for leaving, because if they hadn't left, you would never have had the space for the person you are today. There is one boy on the list you always forget. The most important one.